One Hundred Days
by Ephemeral Muse
Summary: As he trudges his way out of the hospital for the ninetieth time, he doesn't care about the pouring rain or the honking cars. All he cares about is the fact that just ninety days ago, he was planning a wedding...their wedding. D18.


A/N: Written for the first round of thPeekaBoo's "KHR Pairings Writing Contest"! :D The theme is "Last Farewell", soooo...yea. I'd never pass off a chance for an angst-fest, and I DON'T DISAPPOINT! So here ya goes.

Disclaimer: "Katekyo Hitman Reborn!"'s characters, plot, and all other affiliates of the manga and anime belong to Amino Akira, meaning it does not belong to me whatsoever. I own solely this piece of literature, and thus I would also appreciate it if fellow authors and writers do not steal any of my work. Thank you, and enjoy "One Hundred Days".

* * *

One Hundred Days

_A Dino x Hibari Fic._

Day One.

He was in Italy when he heard what happened. Quickly abandoning his mission, he boarded the first plane to Japan. There wasn't a single moment during the flight where he wasn't fidgeting or worrying. Sixteen hours later, he's running straight to _his _room in the Namimori hospital. Despite all the nurses shrieking at him for running, he barges into the room without any other coherent thought.

He doesn't care about the other patients or the employees. All he cares about is Hibari. His Hibari.

It takes him all but five seconds before a vase is chucked at his head. Chuckling, he apologized sheepishly to the huffing nurse and sits down quietly, all under the death glare of his skylark. Really, it's as if he was already going to die. It's just a brain tumor, after all. It's not as if he didn't know how easy it is to fix this problem with a small surgery.

Releasing the breath that he didn't realize he was holding in, he chuckles again and relaxes instantly. Five days...in five days, everything will be fine again. He makes to leave the room, but not before whispering in the other's ear. Soon after, he runs out of the room while dodging a flying tonfa.

Really, if he didn't know better, it seemed as though Hibari didn't _want _to get married. And was that a _blush_? Smiling mischievously, he squints at the sky as soon as he gets out of the hospital.

It's awfully sunny....

* * *

Day Five.

Panting, he resists his body's urge to slow down. If he wasn't in such a panic, he would wonder if this was what people meant when they spoke of deja vu. Pushing past the receptionist yet again, he almost bumps into the doctor. All it takes is one look from the doctor, and he understands everything. It wasn't as though he didn't understand the words from the phone call, though. He just didn't want to understand.

It was supposed to be just a simple tumor removal. So why was his beloved Hibari in a coma?

As soon as he heard the diagnosis, he tuned out the rest of the doctor's explanation. He didn't care about where the tumor was, or how carbon dioxide managed to sneak its way into the bloodstream. All he cared about was the fact that just five days ago, he was planning their wedding.

He walked out slowly, listlessly. As he drifts by, the death glares from the bystanders turns into looks of confusion and sympathy. There were only so many reasons why somebody would rush into a hospital, only to leave in his sort of state.

He looked up as he walked away. Small wisps of clouds drifted in the otherwise clear sky.

* * *

Day Twenty.

He goes to the hospital every day he can, hopeful that someday, he'll be greeted with a vase being thrown at him. He'd dodge, of course, and then engulf the skylark in a huge hug. Every day, though, his dream is crushed as he is faced over and over again with the same bleak image of the man lying, unconscious, under the bedsheets.

He walks over every time, sitting on the bench. He talks to the other as if he wasn't sleeping...because after all, the doctor said that he should be able to hear some of what he's saying. At the very least, he should try his best, right?

The doctor said that those who survive the coma generally lasts between two to five weeks. It's only been twenty days after all. He's going to wake up soon, and then they'll be able to live happily ever after, right?

He stays there for a couple more hours, chatting about everything that has been going on. Tsuna was finally going to get married, and so was Gokudera. They've planned to wait till he wakes up, though, since it just wouldn't be the same without their Cloud being there too.

As he walks out yet again, he notes that the flowers have been wilting. He makes a note to himself to go and pick up fresh ones the next time he comes around.

He can't help but shiver as he walks out. It's late evening, after all, and the days are starting to get chilly.

* * *

Day Fifty.

He refuses to make eye contact with the staff members as he walks into the dark, hated room yet again. Brushing past the doctor, he makes his way towards that dreary seat. They've replaced the hard, metal stool with a softer, cushioned one. He guessed that it was an act of pity, that they knew he'd be in enough pain as it was.

He hated the new chair.

He collapses into that disgusting chair as if he was a marionette with his strings cut off. Looking over at the vase, he smiles wryly. The hyacinths need to be replaced again...Sighing heavily, he starts droning about the recent events. The doctor had told him that the man's condition had worsedn, that he was now in the coma too deep, that he was past the stage of being able to hear. The doctor told him to stop trying.

He didn't care if Hibari couldn't hear him. If he stopped trying, he wouldn't have anything left.

At what point did this stop becoming an action of love, and instead a tiring chore? It seems as though every time he visits the hospital, he leaves behind yet another fragment of his tender heart.

It was fine, though. If it was for Hibari, he'd leave behind more than just a small fragment. For Hibari...

* * *

Day Eighty.

He had long since blocked the Vongola's numbers. He was tired enough without dealing with their superficial worries and pity. He had told them, numerous times, that they could get married already. After all, this way, they'd be back from their honeymoon in time for his own wedding.

Really, where did his optimism come from? Because what's holding onto his sanity for him isn't hope. He's too tired, too drained for something as bright as hope. Perhaps it was an automatic self-defense mechanism in his head.

Perhaps his body knew that if he finally gave up, he'd slip away too.

The receptionist and the nurses know him by his first name already. This time around, though, he doesn't even bother sitting down. Instead, he stares at the other's face. Really, why can't he stay this peaceful when he's awake?

His fingers trace the skin from the forehead down to the neck. Brushing the messy black strands from his perfectly chiseled face, his hands linger on the cheeks. They were so cold... He stays there for a while longer, drinking in the picturesque image. If this wasn't in the hospital, he'd mistake the man for a fallen angel.

It's raining when he leaves, but he doesn't care. He ignores the nurse who tries to give him an umbrella, opting to get drenched instead. Sloshing his way down the sidewalk, he pauses at the entrance of the park. He doesn't know why, doesn't care how, but his feet take him into the isolated grounds.

The park was clearly abandoned a while back. The gray paint on the benches chips off, washing away under the pouring rain. The swings are lopsided, some with the chain handles rusted and broken. The slide is unusable, with the railing chipped away.

He pauses, taking in the dreary image, before sitting down on the seesaw. The seesaw, like everything else in the park, is worn down. The blue paint has long faded away into a bland gray, the handles rusted and crumbly.

And just like him, the other half of the seesaw has been broken apart.

He doesn't know if it's because of the rain, or because of the clear symbolism he sees in the seesaw. Perhaps it's just because it's just one those days. Either way, the tears that have been clogged up since so long ago start leaking out.

He doesn't know why, but after eighty days, the Bronco can't take anymore.

* * *

Day 100.

His eyes are lifeless as he sits in the same chair. The day before, he had requested that they change the chair back to the old one...back to the times when everything was still so perfect. He knows that despite the fact that only his little brother is in the room with him, the others are hiding behind the door.

He reaches with a trembling hand, one last time, towards his fallen angel. He grasps what can only be called an empty shell, carefully avoiding the lines and wires, trying to remember the days when those eyes were filled with bloodlust and energy. He traces the face, memorizing every cell that composes his beloved Hibari.

He tries his best to remember the faint warmth that radiates from a living person.

An uncomfortable cough from his only companion reminds him that despite all his efforts, despite the fact that he tried his best, there isn't anything else that he can do.

He brushes the hair away, and gently presses his lips against the other one last time.

He knows that Hibari can't hear, but he still whispers those words.

He knows that everything he's tried wouldn't have made a difference, but he still tries.

He knows that he should've given up a long time ago, but he still clings.

He says these last words, not for Hibari, but for himself.

Slowly and gently, he places the body down on the bed...and pulls the plug.

_"Goodbye, Kyoya."_

* * *

I really hate writing dialogue for some reason, have you noticed? XD;; I don't think I ever wrote more than 10 lines of dialogue in a single chapter, haha. Written for thPeekaBoo and Dior Crystal's fanfic contest. :3

Theme song: "Set the Fire to the Third Bar" by Snow Patrol. SUCH A SAD SONG~ -heart-

_**Review, or I'll kill off Enzo too. BWAHHAHAHAHAHA -shot-**_


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